Anything You Need
by JustJasper
Summary: for angst bingo 'hello again'. JJ relapses on an old habit. Contains self harm.


"**Could a scar be like the rings of a tree, reopened with each emotional season?" - Magenta Periwinkle**

JJ couldn't remember there ever being this much blood, but she did remember the last time she'd broken apart a shaving razor to extract the blade and use it to cut long gashes in the tops of her thighs.

"Hello again..." she muttered, a low bitter laugh catching in her throat the sight and the memory.

It had been after they'd found Reid just after he'd shot Hankel; standing in her bathroom alone, cutting herself had felt like a betrayal, considering she hadn't hurt herself like that since she left college, no matter how bad things had gotten. She'd thought it was a teenage vice she'd outgrown like a large percentage of 'cutters' did. But she had forgotten just how much it helped, how good it felt to feel the sting and see the blood and then have something to care for. That relapse had made her feel less guilty about her part in Reid's kidnapping and ordeal, and apart from blood stains on her favourite bed sheets when the wounds had opened up in the night, she didn't regret it.

She hadn't lied, the first time Emily had seen her naked, about where the scars on her legs came from. But she had framed it so it was very much past: _"I used to cut myself when I was a teenager"_, she'd said. They'd bonded over it, because Emily had confided that she had too when she was young and finding it impossible to express her feelings any other way, a few very faint scars on her arms attesting to it. _"Normal"_, Emily had said. Not uncommon amongst teenagers, especially girls, and nothing to be ashamed of, even if it wasn't dinner conversation.

She'd had the forethought to step into the bathtub before she carved the three-inch long cuts into the tops of her thighs, three on each, symmetrical and quick. The blade was already bloody when she dropped it on the rim of the bath, groaning low in her throat as she felt the blood immediately running in warm trails down her legs.

She laughed softly to herself as she put her palms on her legs and felt the blood underhand, wiping it along expanse of thigh. She had never been content to just watch herself bleed; she needed to remind herself she was living, breathing, working, real. Her toes curled in the blood pooling a little at her feet, and she reminded herself she was safe. Her team was safe. Her son was safe, asleep in his bed. None of that stopped the images of the last case flooding her conscious; charred, mutilated, twisted bodies of five female victims, one – Casey Green - who JJ had spoken to at the start of the investigation, who had survived the torture for a hellish agonising three hours in the ICU. JJ had felt so guilty, so responsible for that _"we'll stop who's doing this"_, that she had sat with her in those final hours, listened to her wail and scream as doctors tried to help her, and felt she didn't deserve to feel relieved when they eventually sedated her.

Turning the shower on made things look worse as the blood was diluted and headed for the drain. The cuts stung as JJ danced her fingers along them, cleaning the skin around them; four of them were still bleeding, one quite profusely. She didn't worry, even though she was shaking from the endorphin release, because she knew they'd still clot under the stream of the shower.

She was still naked, hair pulled up into a rough tie, the first aid kit open in the sink as she dressed her thighs when she heard Emily's voice ring through the apartment.

"JJ?"

She was going to find out, sooner or later. JJ wouldn't be able to hide what she'd done to herself without arousing suspicion; despite a busy schedule they found plenty of time to be naked together. The next best thing seems to be to not make a big deal about it.

"I'm in the bathroom." She called, and tore off a strip of medical tape.

"Hey," Emily said as she opened the door, "Henry asleep? I know I'm early but-" a pause, "-JJ?"

"Did you bring food? I'm starving." JJ commented off-hand, not looking up from her task.

"JJ, what happened?" Emily looked startled, confused.

"I cut myself." She said plainly.

"You cut yourself?" Emily repeated incredulously.

"Yes." If she didn't look at her, she'd be able to keep the apathy in her voice. She waited for Emily to shout, or cry, or guilt trip her for what she was doing like the first college roommate she'd had who accidentally found out, but it didn't come. Instead Emily reached for the first aid kit and picked it up out of the sink, doing a good job of disguising her shaking hands.

"You're not doing a very good job there." She said. "Go lie on the bed, let me help."

JJ avoided the other woman's gaze as she moved around her lover, through into the bedroom, where she lay back with her knees hanging off the side, and stared at the ceiling. She felt rather than saw Emily put the kit down beside her and knelt to one side of JJ's knees.

"It was a hard case." Emily observed as she placed dressing over the cuts on her left thigh.

JJ didn't say anything, just tried to concentrate on keeping her breathing even as she felt Emily's fingers putting tape on her skin to secure the dressing.

"This isn't an acceptable form of stress relief like drinking," JJ said plainly, "because it forces others to see it and acknowledge someone is in pain and they can't do anything about it."

She felt Emily rest her lips gently against her knee, pensive.

"I want to be able to do something about it." she murmured. "I've seen what you see, JJ. Worse. You don't have to do this alone."

"I don't compartmentalise like you do."

"So...?"

"So you don't end up doing things like this."

"That doesn't mean I don't understand, JJ." Emily soothed. "I know you're a glutton for punishment because you feel like because you're not a profiler you don't get your 'share' of horror. I know I don't have to tell you how destructive that can be."

JJ didn't say anything, but she knew Emily was right. Her own words, spoken once to Garcia, passed through her mind; _"If I can't watch this, I've got no business being on this team."_

"You knew I'd see these." Emily said gently, as she dressed the other leg.

"I wasn't thinking about you when I was doing it. You didn't even come to mind." She realised how cold that sounded, and despite it being the truth she continued. "Not just you, nobody. It was about me, because I knew it would help straight away. It used to be my first resort after my sister..." she trailed off, and Emily put several slow butterfly kisses along her thigh. "Then after college I thought I broke the habit. But sometimes... sometimes it's a last resort."

"What resort am I?" Emily asked, moving the first aid kit aside and sitting on the bed beside JJ, who sat up slowly. "I know it's not about me, but if self injury is a last resort, did I miss you trying to come to me? To talk?"

"No, you didn't." She admitted, getting up gingerly and reaching for pyjamas. "I guess I knew you'd tell me what happened to Casey Green wasn't my fault."

"Do you need it to be your fault?" Emily levelled, watching the woman step into loose blue pants and a green camisole. JJ still had her back to her when she tossed another set of pyjamas – lilac pants and yellow camisole – over her shoulder at Emily. "Is that what you need? To be accountable?" she asked as she started to undress. "You shouldn't have told her we were going to catch him. You should have said we were doing our best. You know that, you're usually so careful with your language. That's as far as your fault goes, JJ. You didn't hurt her. You didn't get her killed."

"The food's gonna be going cold." JJ said, barely glancing at Emily to check she was redressed.

"The food can wait, Jen." She put her hand gently on the small of JJ's back, letting it linger. "Look at me."

"No." She muttered, putting her hands on her hips defiantly even as she let Emily turn her, but avoided her gaze, looking at the floor.

"Why not?" Emily said softly.

"Because I don't want to cry." She huffed.

"Might help." Emily smiled kindly, even though JJ wasn't looking at her.

"You going to say it?" JJ muttered.

"Say what?" Emily's hands slipped onto the other's hips, waiting patiently for her to meet her eyes. It was unusual for her to avoid eye contact like this, and she knew it was because the woman didn't want to lose the last of her composure and somehow prove herself weak, and by extension insinuate that what she had done to herself was part of weakness.

"Make me promise not to cut myself again."

"Why would I do that?" Emily sounded genuinely curious, and that's what made JJ lift her head.

"Well, that's..." she shrugged helplessly.

"How would be guilt-tripping you help?" Emily asked, eyes imploring JJ's, which were welling up with tears. "If cutting yourself is what you really need to cope," she sounded a little reluctant, but she continued, "then okay. But you've got to let me help you. You've got to try and see if maybe it doesn't have to be what you need. Maybe I can be what you need. We can talk, relax... if it's the blood you want, well we both bleed. If it's the pain, I can spank you..."

"Spank me?" JJ spluttered out a laugh, even as tears rolled over her cheeks. Emily smiled and leant forward, pressing her forehead to JJ's.

"Anything you need."

"A kiss might be nice." JJ said. She knew they were easing away from the hard conversation for the might, and she appreciated that Emily wasn't forcing her to talk in the wake of a difficult case, even with what she'd done.

"I can do that." Emily smiled, moving her head and catching JJ's lips with her own.

"**In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain." - Aberjhani**


End file.
